


Hunter's Resolve

by PsychicBeagle



Category: Monster Hunter (Video Games)
Genre: Brutal Combat, Call To Action, Hangry Lizard?, I Don't Get Modern Slang, Very Angry Lizard, Very Hungry Lizard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2017-04-14
Packaged: 2018-10-18 15:18:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10619637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PsychicBeagle/pseuds/PsychicBeagle
Summary: In a world of giants, even the mighty Hunter's Guild isn't enough. As influential as it is, it can't be everywhere. When disaster strikes and help is nowhere to be seen, the ordinary man is called to do extraordinary things.





	

            The sun beat down as harshly as ever, the sweat on my brow swiftly cascading down my face. I smiled to myself, imagining some high class nobleman fretting about getting his expensive silk suit ruined. I could only find concerns like that funny, the strike of a hoe sending clumps of dirt scattering across my thin, patchy work shirt, mixing with sweat and similarly acquired soils to forever dye its surface a dark brown.

            I tore the grey, iron head from the ground, leaving a hole behind, which was quickly occupied by a ball of scruffy, dusty white fur. The Felyne in question went about his work diligently, throwing a handful of seeds in before shoving the surrounding mounds of dirt overtop. For being no more than a foot and a half tall, the little guy could work as hard and fast as any full sized human.

            “Are you wearing out, Meowster?” He looked up at me with an eyebrow raised, scratching at something behind the pointed, cat-like ears atop his head. “That’s the third time in the last half hour you stopped to watch me work.” His whiskers sprung out in straight lines from his short muzzle, a sudden wide-eyed panic taking over. “I haven’t been going too slowly, have I? I swear, I’m going as fast as my paws can carry me!” I found myself chuckling.

            “Calm down, Ash. You’re doing fine.” I reached down, scratching him right between the ears, eliciting a soft purr. “My head’s been wandering here and there today, that’s all. Come on, let’s polish off these last few rows. Then we can go get something warm in our bellies. How’s Gargwa eggs sound?” He perked up at the suggestion, dashing a few feet down the field. “Should I take that as a yes?”

            “Help! Someone, everyone, help!” The thought of lunch was shoved away, the yelling and rushed, lopsided footsteps drawing every pair of eyes in seeing range. Little kids from back by the village stuck their noses around the corners of their homes as field workers moved in the general direction of the commotion.

            Ash and I followed closely behind. Over the next hill, just on our side of the tree line that marked the boundary between our village and the woods, we saw someone running as fast as their limp, unsteady legs could carry them. It was only a kid, hardly past thirteen if I was judging right, but their skin was paled and their eyes were a tap away from popping right out of their sockets. The few people out in the front of the curious pack tried to get ahold of him, probably so he could calm down and get the right colors back in his face, but he sloppily pushed them back.

            “Please, send a message out to the Hunter’s Guild! It’s an emergency!” It was only when I got closer that I recognized him as one of our own, the son of the local woodsman. I had thought he was only supposed to be going to the thinner, safer parts of the the forest to gather lumber, but whatever he saw there was clearly something big, his whole body shaking from the hysteria. I pushed my way closer, quickly and roughly putting a hand around his shoulders.

            “Listen, we’re going to need you to take a deep breath and tell us what’s got you in such a tizzy. Can you do that for us?” The way he stared into my eyes shook me to the core, like he had just gazed at death itself and still reflected its visage. At least he was starting to breathe right, arms and legs almost managing to not quiver like branches in a windstorm.

            “I-I was down by the river, uprooting a stump because, you know, can’t just leave them to take up space, right? Anyway, I almost had it out when I saw the water was moving weird, like it was a cover getting pushed up. Then, before I could blink, a monster threw itself out of the water, coming down at me with these huge jaws open wide. I only got missed by few feet when I tumbled backwards.”

            “Before I could get up, it took another lunge at me, snapping hard enough to rattle half the leaves off the trees. If I hadn’t slid down that little hill…” A much more violent quake forced its way through him, and his already sickly skin tone went ghost white for a second. “I’ll never forget those beady, black eyes.”

            My mind flashed back to my younger years, when my father would set me on his lap and go through his old hunting journal. His days on the field had left him behind, but he was more than happy to relive those memories with me, and something about that description was ringing a bell. I remembered entries from nearly a hundred different monster species, but which one had a huge jaw, little eyes, and a hunger that ravenous? My heart nearly stopped when it finally came back to me.

            “What about its scales?” He looked at me, not quite understanding the question. In the rush of fear, I shook him like a rag doll. “What color were its scales!?” He lapsed back into shock, stuttering over the words.

            “G-green, I think, with these yellow spikes on its chin.” My grip on him loosened, some of the most nightmarish stories in that journal coming back to haunt me. A beast the size of several hundred men, and a stomach with room for thousands. “I don’t know how long until it works its way here, so please, someone send for the…”

            “The Guild wouldn’t be here in time.” I stepped away from him and, more importantly, the woods that hid the behemoth. “As soon as it catches wind of something tasty, not even the mightiest gale can outrun a Deviljho.” The crowd around us gasped, skin edging toward that same unhealthy white.

            “Deviljho?” Some of the older, more knowledgeable faces in the crowd began to talk amongst themselves. “Does he mean the World Eater itself?”

            “The very same, but I wish I was wrong.” All of those tales that kept me awake at night came flooding back. I had once thought the idea of a monster whose hunger-induced rage could eclipse even Elder Dragons were too fantastical to believe, but now it seemed all too real.

            “But if it catches wind of us, there won’t even be time to get out ourselves, let alone wait for the Guild to send a hunter!” The frantic, terrified eyes of an old, heavyset farmer locked on me, desperation radiating out from every minute twitch. “Wait, your old man was a hunter, right? He must have some equipment or something we can use to slow it down, right?” It sounded like he was prematurely pinning the last shreds of hope on me.

            “He sold most of his hunting gear to set up our farm here. The only thing left is an old, worn sword and his carving knife. Besides, even if we had the greatest weaponry at our disposal, I’m no hunter! I’m built for striking the fields, not towering, savage, bloodthirsty…” My denials ran dry as I caught movement at the top of the hill. The village children had followed us and were peeking over the edge, uncertainty and dawning comprehension of the danger at hand staining their faces.

            Slowly, methodically, I turned to look at every face around me, from the youngest upstarts to the eldest veterans of life. All looked to me, unbridled fear warded away by only a single speck of hope. I turned away, closing my eyes to avoid their own, but I knew then how limited my options were.

            “Ash, go get the sword, and the knife while you’re at it.” He recoiled, not expecting the unusually hard edge in my voice. For all the years he had been with me, he had never heard me break from joviality, but we were in dire straights. “Everyone else, gather any wide pieces of metal I could strap to myself. A Deviljho’s teeth can tear through mountains. If I hope to stand any chance, I’ll need protection better than these old rags of mine.” It took a moment for my orders to set in, but they were quick to comply, dashing off towards the village. That young boy who brought us the news gazed at me with the most sincere gratitude, eyes watering.

            “Bless you, sir. Bless you.” I accepted it with a nod, watching as he followed the others in their search. Once he was out of sight, I turned back to the forest, hands instinctually clenching. If there was even a glimmer of hope for them, I would need every blessing I could get.

—

            The once relaxing sunlight had become oppressive, and not just because of the kitchen supplies I had tied everywhere. The metal we had on hand consisted mainly of large bowls and pans, resulting in a patchwork armor that looked more at place in a wayward chef’s daydreams. Still, it was better than nothing, and I could only thank the villagers for sparing the materials.

            My hand pressed against the old, leather bound handle sticking a foot out from my side, trying to get a feel for how to best grip it. The thin, light longsword was, by my father’s admission, among the most complex melee weapons to wield, but this one had served him faithfully and promised to do the same for me if I could manage even a fraction of his talent. Then again, he had also said that it required all of his experience to fell even the smallest Deviljho, leaving me in a tight spot.

            Fortunately, I had one benefit in this hunt. From the thickest layer of trees, a ray of light came down and across my field of vision, drawing my attention to a fuzzy, off-white form tucked away in the branches. Ash was nothing if not a dutiful Felyne, even if this was his first experience in scouting.

            His warning signal came seconds before the forest itself began to shake, quivering in fear of what was to come. My eyes closed, and I breathed deeply, reaching back to the words that helped my father through every hunt.

            _‘They may be stronger, but our spirits shine brighter. He who fights with a burning heart will always hold the advantage.’_

            I let loose my breath, inhibition’s treacherous tendrils driven from my heart. I turned, using the tree I had been leaning against as a ladder to higher ground. I stopped when I could see the clear path through its branches, keeping myself low as to avoid detection.

            My hold on the bark nearly shook free as an especially heavy tremor tore through, accompanied by the sound of a tree toppling to the ground. The next wave rang out with the crack of wood, a stick being stepped in half on the scale of titans.

            I shook my head lightly, shooing away the dread that approached with every quake. I pulled myself a little higher, enough to see the ground directly by my tree. At its base, a large chunk of raw, still reddened meat sat, a slight yellow tinge hiding beneath the artfully applied layers of blood. I could only hope we had enough fungi to prepare our surprise properly.

            My eyes flicked up as the intensity of the tremors grew, lowering myself back into my hiding spot. The shaking stopped for a moment, its sounds replaced by heavy, sharp intakes of air. A growl like two serrated steel edges grinding together, then the woods exploded.

            A wall of trees were torn from their roots, flattened and shattered by the form that followed. I found myself shaking against my will, those cold, black, glassy eyes acting as a window into the raging heart of the beast. Its dark green scales bulged outwards, its own armor bending to the will of the immense cords of muscle that moved its hulking frame. From wide, studded snout to thick, spike lined tail, it stretched the length of twenty men set laying head-to-foot. It sniffed the air once more, rearing back on its two legs to lease a roar that threatened to tear the very earth it stood on asunder.

            Its legs tightened, claws puncturing the ground like butcher’s knives, before it launched in my direction. Its maw opened wide, rows of jagged, misshapen teeth bordering the black void that was its stomach. In one pass, the chunk of meat, which was almost half my own size, vanished into the beast’s throat, not even bothering to chew the morsel of flesh.

            In its rush, it hadn’t thought of what came after the meat, crashing mouth first into the base of my tree, teeth tearing effortlessly through the wood until no trunk remained. As my platform of choice faltered, I was forced into action, throwing myself over the top of the branches. I reached for the hilt of my sword, saying a small prayer as the Deviljho’s head tilted up towards me.

            In that moment, time slowed to a standstill. Its dark, soulless eyes met mine, the unbridled rage and ravenous hunger that cleaved a trail through the landscape locking firmly on me. Its mouth began to open, teeth grinding past one another with a noise akin to stone utensils scratching together. By the time I had managed to start unsheathing my blade, the barest glint of hastily polished iron showing, its mouth had opened as wide as it could, a pit to oblivion right beneath my feet. I couldn’t maneuver out of the way midair, my only foothold falling to the wayside as yet another victim of the Deviljho’s wrath.

            Then, just as gravity’s chains started reeling in its next meal, the beast recoiled, jaw snapping shut, though it barely muffled the bewildered, seething howl it leased in response. All across its body, a series of unwanted twitches broke out, its once mighty frame collapsing in on itself as its brutish muscles stopped acting as it desired. It managed to stay standing only through the raw bulk of its legs.

            Just as the journal said, concentrated Thundershroom juices had disabled the beast, blotting out control of its own body. It wouldn’t be long until the effect passed, however, the Deviljho’s insatiable metabolism burning through the toxin with every constricted breath. I had to be swift and precise.

            I came down like a great bee, the stinging edge of my blade unraveling itself from its leather sheath. I hadn’t the time to fully extend my sword for a proper strike, but the present edge was sharp enough for a first blow, slicing across the left side of its head as I slid by. Its howls of anger stammered for a moment, and, looking back, I found that it was less able to return my gaze. By some fortune, I had managed to put the edge of my sword through the beast’s eye socket, red, steaming fluid leaking from its closed, partially torn eyelid.

            I repressed the swell of pride that came with such a clean strike. I could see its writhing grow ever more violent, and a wide streak of red began to swell on its back. It was half blinded, true, but now I had made myself to be something far more personal than a meal. I landed on my feet, turning and dashing towards it as the last length of steel scraped free of its holder. It was worn, chipped all along its length, and the faded shadows of rust still haunted its sheen, but it was still sharp enough to pierce flesh.

            I went for the left leg, aiming for the bulge that indicated its central muscle. Severing it would cut its mobility in half, but whatever demon forged it seemed to have taken that into account. Its scales halted my blow effortlessly, the recoil bouncing me backwards with only what might as well have been a paper cut in its coating to show for it.

            My eyes went to and fro, trying to pinpoint where its scales were thinnest, but the abrupt loss of sunlight overhead set off an alert in my mind. I was able to drop to my knees the smallest fractions of a second in advance, the spikes that lined its tail scratching across my pan helmet in just the right way to light a spark. Its whole frame followed, twisting around to face me again. My heart dropped, realizing just how short lived the tainted meat’s effects were.

            Before I could so much as flinch at the newfound danger, it was upon me, diving forward with its maw opened wide. I hopped to the right, hoping the combination of forward momentum and blindness on that side would grant me a momentary edge, but I underestimated its mobility. Its feet dug into the ground, grinding its vicious charge to a halt, before throwing itself sideways towards me. I found myself under its falling side, the mass of flesh that coated its back swelling and glowing a deep, bloody red.

            Moving out of the way was beyond me, well over ten meters between me and either edge, leaving me to brace for impact, feet dug into the dirt and arms held in a stiff cross guard. My attempted barricade was little use, the titanic mass of the Deviljho bowling me over all the same. All its weight came to bear across my body, my own ribs turning into an instrument to crush the air from my lungs and constrict my heart. My kneecaps were forced to bend backwards, almost peeling away from the joints therein, and a horrible crack rang out from my left shoulder.

            By the time it had passed, I was left with twisted, contorted scrap in place of my armor, and my left arm burned hotter than any magma. The slightest movement sent the pain pulsing throughout me, a paralyzing wave of unrelenting agony.

            The right, by some miracle, still functioned, and in its grasp was my somehow unbent blade. My grip on it tightened as I fought against gravity, struggling to stand before the monster could return for a second, more final blow. My legs throbbed and shook beneath me, but I forced them stiff, upholding my upper half that sagged to the side of my limp, crushed arm.

            About sixty meters ahead, the Deviljho had climbed back to its own feet, last remaining eye staring at me. I returned my own fierce gaze, the fire in my arm seeming to spark the flames of my heart. The horrifying pain would have broken lesser men, but that was precisely why I stood back up. I was the last and only line of defense between my village and the Deviljho. If I fell, so, too, would they, and the very thought made my blood boil.

            I was a hunter, and the Eater of Worlds was my prey.

            With a roar from the depths of Hell itself, the beast charged, head held low to look me in the eye as it finished me. My own bellow matched it, the call of my spirit forcing my broken body forward. My right arm reared back, the point of my sword aimed forward. The distance between us shrank, its wide gait bringing it closer and closer.

            Time seemed to slow once again, its face and mine mere centimeters apart. I felt its blistering breath roll over my shoulders as its lips peeled apart, teeth glistening like a hundred knives. With a grunt of effort, I brought my body to a stop, but my arm kept going, the momentum and weight of my sword carrying it forward.

            Beast and blade met, the unending, angry abyss of its eye suddenly filled with cold, worn steel, and the forest exploded. Its wrenching cry of agony only grew louder as the metal went deeper, reaching an ear-rending crescendo as it hilted in its skull.

            Again I found myself beneath the falling weight of the beast, but my body, torn and ragged, couldn’t bear to resist. Its knee careened into my chest, flattening out my lungs as I dropped. The tips of its claws passed, next, tearing away the single metal plate there and leaving a deep, enflamed gash across my torso.

            I found the blow was lessened, though, an indescribable relief washing over me. I watched as the mountainous, demonic form that caused me such anguish toppled over, embedding itself in the Earth like the remains of a boil. Despite the pain it inflicted, I was filled with an unorthodox serenity as the breath fled the would-be destroyer.

            _‘He who fights with a burning heart will always hold the advantage.’_ Those words echoed once more in my mind, and my peace was solidified. As always, my father was right.

            “Meowster!” My sight of the Deviljho’s cooling corpse was blocked by an off-white ball of fur, his eyes wide with concern. “Oh no, I wasn’t trained to stitch wounds. Hold on, I’ll get a doctor!” He turned and scampered away, though it was growing increasingly hard to see even that much. My eyes drifted closed of their own accord, and darkness tugged at my mind.

            I fell welcomingly into that deep slumber, a content smile gracing my face.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, who knew I'd get some actual use out of the thousand plus hours I've monster hunted? Let me tell you, it was worth it.
> 
> Speaking of, I had a real random idea. I'm writing about video games as a hobby, and I'd say I've gotten pretty good at it over the last few years. Would I be the type of guy to actually do the Sword Art Online death game thing right? We all know that of its numerous flaws, the original writer's lack of focused insight into gaming is among the worst. I've been gaming my whole life, so maybe I'd have the history and practice to pull it off. If someone knows an original fiction site I could do something like that on, let me know. The one who brings me such a name shall receive the greatest of rewards. A shout out in the end of chapter notes where I announce the project to my readers here! That's worth it, right?


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